


Strong Sexy Super Maid, Equius Zahhak

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst and Humor, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Everyone is hot for Equius, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Maid Equius, Mood Whiplash, Multi, Troll Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a prompt on tumblr. Equius Zahhak, prim and proper; due to a series of, rather contrived really, unfortunate events, he is deprived of his usual clothing, and the only thing that fits his STRONG physique is an old cosplay outfit that his moirail, Nepeta Leijon possesses.</p><p>Shenanigans ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning, there was Red.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. This is STRONG SEXY SUPER MAID, EQUIUS ZAHHAK.
> 
> Or, as I like to refer to it in my head, the Lusty Alternian Maid.
> 
> It's already on my tumblr, so you'll be able to catch the next few chapters there if you feel the need for spoilerz or you're impatient. Tsk tsk.
> 
> I'll admit to having too much fun writing this.

Your name is EQUIUS ZAHHAK, and your last set of good clothes has just been IRREVOCABLY DESTROYED. Thankfully, you are relatively unharmed.

It was a mistake to leave one’s wardrobifier in the vicinity of Pyrope. She has, quite foolishly, dipped all your most noble and regal outfits into red paint in order to, and you quote, ‘M4K3 TH3M MOR3 D3L1C1OUS!’ She then proceeded to gnaw on them, like a squeakbeast. Maryam has offered to create a new set of clothes for you that are what she claims as ‘Significantly More Style-conscious’.

You are relatively grateful, but there is still the matter of WHAT YOU WILL WEAR UNTIL SHE IS DONE.

There are no other sets of clothes in your unbelievably STRONG size, as all the other trolls simply don’t share your build.

Which has led you to your final, most disgraceful resort. Standing in front of your moirail, Nepeta Leijon, in nothing but a towel.

“Nepeta.” She looks up at you with sparkly eyes and she knows what you’re going to ask. “Do you… do… goodheavensineedatowel… do you still have…” You swallow thickly, feeling the sheer carpet of sweat now covering your skin. “Yes, Equius?” She purrs.

“Those ridiculous outfits. Do you still have them.” Her eyes aren't merely sparkling, they are glowing. “Why, I thought you’d nefur ask!” You swallow thickly again.

“I need a towel.” You mutter under your breath, and she hands you one from her sylladex.

Good Friend, Best Moirail.

“I have just the THING!” She cycles through her sylladex and retrieves… a veritable wave of perspiration forms.

“… You are not serious.”

“Of claws I’m serious, Equius!” She gives you a cat-like grin, and holds up the frilly, white and black lacy dress. “It’s furrom one of my favourite troll anime’s!” The towel is no longer helping. You require more of them. Nepeta hands you two more wordlessly.

“… Surely you have something more… appropriate? As appropriate as these ridiculous things can be for one of my status.” She shakes her head sadly.

“I threw most of them out beclaws you said you would nefur ‘do something so unbecoming’.” You grit your teeth, and sigh. Nothing for it then. Wearing the ridiculous outfit is better then wearing nothing at all.

“Fine. I will… wear it. Do not take this as a condoning of your 100d behaviour. I am merely stooping to this level simply because I have no other choice.”

“Of claws you don’t.” There’s a playful bite to her tone, and she grins at you cheekily. You shoo her away, so that you may… put on the outfit.

After struggling with the outfit (you are very, very careful not to rip it – ridiculous or not, it’s your only set of clothes for now) and afterwards,you examine yourself in the mirror.

Good heavens. You reach for a towel.

It fits you surprisingly well. The poofy black skirt with the lacy white trim is rather… breezy. The stockings, snow white, hug your STRONG legs almost as tightly as Nepeta does when she’s afraid. The apron has your symbol, emblazoned in azure b100, and the strange little headdress has it as well. Nepeta has even provided you with a feather-duster to complete the outfit.

You are… dare you say it? Rather… attractive.

You do a small pirouette, causing the skirt to flutter. Nepeta has given you a set of panties in your b100d colour as well.

You aren’t sure where she got the measurements for that, and you feel you are better off not knowing.

Feeling better about this ridiculous outfit, you exit the respiteblock to demonstrate your STRONG regal aura, to Nepeta. She has no words, and only stares at you, dumbfounded and open-mouthed. “Nepeta, close your mouth. A wingedbuzzbeast might fly in.” She dutifully closes her mouth, but the shocked expression has not left her face. “… Nepeta? Oh dear.” She appears to be in some form of trance.

“NEPETA, HAVE YOU SEEN MY FUCKing… spare… si… ck… les…” The voice of your self-proclaimed friend-leader began at once to assault your auricular spongeclots but rather swiftly faded away.

“Vantas.” You say stiffly, folding your arms over your chest. You are aware of your moirail’s flushed infatuation, but you personally believe (and rightly so) that Vantas is nothing more then a crass influence, an exemplar of the lowb100ded peasantry.

“… Equius…” He mumbles, strangely subdued. His eyes have taken on the same shocked expression of Nepeta, and you are beginning to wonder if this is some sort of transmissible illness that is being passed around.

“Is there something I can assist you with, Vantas?” For Nepeta’s sake you are being polite, if frigid. He mumbles something, and you can only get ‘sit’ and ‘right’ from what he’s said. This is highly unusual. The nubbyhorned mutant-troll is, generally speaking, loud and outspoken to a fault, not to mention highly vitriolic. His calm, quiet subduedness is… to quote the Highb100d, a ‘MiRaClE’.

Nepeta manages to shake herself out of whatever stupor she was in, and you immediately notice a fierce olive blush staining her cheeks. Clearly the influence of Vantas’s presence. How… 100d.

“Um, yes! Uh… the sickles! They’re… just ofur there!” She grabs Vantas by the arm and drags him bodily away. You are tempted to chaperone whatever event she is attempting to pull, but decide against it. Sometimes, you must let your moirail discover things on her own. It would not do to coddle her unnecessarily.

But, if Vantas breaks her b100dpusher, you are going to break every bone in his body. Naturally.

Instead, you decide to see how everyone else reacts to your new outfit.

==>

When you encounter Sollux and Tavros, Sollux’s first reaction is to spit out the mouthful of coffee he was currently in the midst of swallowing, all over Tavros. Tavros just gawks at you, not even noticing the steaming liquid that is dripping off him.

You can clearly see the gold and chocolate hued flushes on their faces, even if Tavros is currently slick with caffeinated beverage. Despite the fact that they are lowb100ded peasantry, the attention is… flattering.

Perhaps you could get used to wearing this. The thought spurs another wave of perspiration, as well as a revelation.

If the outfit is gathering this much attention from everyone… perhaps it will finally earn the eye of the Highb100d? Or perhaps… that rustb100ded… beautiful…

You shake your head. “Have any of you seen the Highb100d?”

“uH„, i’VE„, sEEN gAMZEE uH„, iN tHE mAINBLOCK„,” Tavros slowly works out, almost drawling the words. Good heavens. The effect is greater then you had first assumed.

You nod stiffly to them, and stride away in a most STRONG and regal manner. In a fit of 100d thinking, you decide to add a sashay your hips. You can feel their eyes on you as you leave the room, causing a fresh wave of perspiration.

“… holy thhiit…”

“uH, tHAT iS, uH, aN aPPROPRIATE sUMMARY„,”

This is the beginning of a new You, you think. A sexy You. An admittedly, rather 100d and somewhat unbecoming You.

You can live with that though.


	2. In Which Cupcakes are Baked, and Somebody Flakes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Equius discovers that perhaps the secret to Love is Baking Confectionery. Gears turn, and the wings of the Butterfly have flapped and changed the course of time. For better... or for worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aurthour's Secret Butlering Techniques make me laugh each time. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone whose left kudos - I love you. Come to me bosom of ridiculousness.

You are EQUIUS ZAHHAK, B100-b100ded noble troll and currently wearing an outfit most 100d. It is a frilly, black and white maid’s uniform, that your moirail NEPETA LEIJON claims is from one of her Troll Anime.

So far, you appear to have some sort of SHOCK effect on people that leaves them speechless. You are currently attempting to try this out on the Highb100d.

The lowb100ded peasant known as TAVROS NITRAM has informed you that the Highb100d is located within the mainblock.

You brush your skirt slightly, and repoof it. Deep breathes, Equius. Time to rock his world. Well, asteroid at this point. You’re digressing.

You sweep into the room majestically, all frills and lace, and STRONG bulging biceps.

Your entrance falls on deaf ears – or blind eyes in this case. TEREZI PYROPE, the whole reason you are wearing this ridiculous (if incredibly sexy) ensemble. She takes a deep whiff of the air and promptly begins cackling. “L1COR1C3 AND FLUFFY M1LKSH4K3S, W1TH JUST 4 H1NT OF BLU3B3RRY! WH4T 4N 1NT3R3ST1NG COSTUM3 Z4HH4K!”

She grins at you, all fangs and black lips, and moves to lick you. You have sunken to a new level of depravity, but you still have some modicum of dignity.

You nimbly sidestep her lunge, and ignore her, in favour of the Highb100d. You can already see his majestic spiralling horns, emerging from a pile of… significantly less majestic and considerably more noisy horns.

He is conversing with the jadeb100d – Maryam.

She glances up at you, and does a doubletake. Unlike the others (who can see, at least), she is not awed or shocked by your appearance, and only arches an aristocratic eyebrow with mild curiosity. “Equius. An Interesting Choice In Outfit. Nepeta’s Idea?” There’s an amused tone to her voice, but you simply perform a STRONG curtsy.

“Good midnight Maryam. Highb100d.” The Highb100d turns to face you, and he blinks.

“MoThErFuCkEr. ThAt OuTfIt Is A bItChTiTs MiRaClE.” Gamzee gives you a dopey smile, and you feel a fresh carpet of sweat form.

He likes it. Oh good heavens, you need a towel. It doesn’t appear to have the same affect on him as it does the others though – neither does it on Maryam though.

You are curious as to why. Perhaps you just aren’t trying hard enough. You will have to give it your STRONGEST effort.

“I am here to serve you Highb100d.” You give him a curtsy, and he only smiles dopily.

“ThAt’S MoThErFuCkIn’ BiTcHtItS.”

Maryam hides a smile behind a hand, and gives you an amused look.

"Is there anything I can do to... assist you, Highb100d?" You ask, attempting to look as pretty as possible. He does not answer, only grinning.

“Equius, May I Speak To You In Private For A Moment?” You raise an eyebrow at her, but indulge the request and allow her to lead you over to the corner.

“If You Are Going To Attempt To Act As Maid To… Seduce Gamzee, Then Perhaps You Should Really Act The Part.” She says, and you feel like she is restraining a laugh. Whatever her intentions, her words still carry an element of reason to them.

“… You are correct, Maryam. In order to gain the attention of the Highb100d, I will have to work with all my STRENGTH.”

The Highb100d has shown an affection for baked confections. Perhaps that will be the key to his bloodpusher.

Much like Aurthour used to do, you breeze out of the room with silent grace, and make a beeline for the Nutriblock.

==>

“WHY THE FUCK DO YOU NEED MY ASSISTANCE? YOU AREN’T THAT MUCH OF A USELESS BULGEFUCK THAT YOU CAN’T COOK ARE YOU?”

Despite your embarassment, and the fresh carpet of sweat, you can only nod your head shamefully. It is true. Aurthour handled all the chores. When it came to being a butler, he was simply the best there was.

“… YOU CAN’T BE FUCKING SERIOUS. OH MY GOG. YOU ARE LITERALLY, THE MOST PATHETIC ASSWIGGLER. PLATONICALLY, NOOKSUCKER, DON’T GET YOUR FUCKING HOPES UP.” He makes one of his angrier faces and sighs.

“I GUESS IT CAN’T BE FUCKING HELPED THEN, SEEING AS YOUR TOO FUCKING ASSBACKWARDS STUPID TO SO MUCH AS COOK SOMETHING EDIBLE, I’LL HAVE TO FUCKING TEACH YOU SO YOU DON’T UP KILLING YOURSELF, OR GOG FORBID, EVERYONE ELSE, SEEING AS THEY ACTUALLY FUCKING MATTER.”

Being taught by this… this… _mutant_ … It’s so horribly 100d and unbecoming.

You need a towel. Several of them.

“OH GOG, JEGUS, HOW DO YOU STAY HYDRATED LIKE THIS?!”

==>

“RIGHT, NOW PAY FUCKING ATTENTION.” Your self-proclaimed Friend-leader was wearing a ridiculous ensemble that he claims is the same style worn by ‘Troll Gordon Ramsay’.

“WE’RE GOING TO BAKE SOME GOG DAMN FUCKING CUPCAKES. FIRST, MEASURE THE FUCKING INGREDIENTS. A FEW CUPS OF NOOKSUCKING FLOUR. A CUP OF GRUBSAUCE, AND THE GOOD SHIT TOO, NONE OF THAT CHEAPASS CRAP. SOME GOG DAMN GRUBNUTS. A BOTTLE OF FAYGO. NORMALLY, WE WOULDN’T FUCKING USE THIS IN COOKING, BUT IF IT’S FOR THAT SHIT-FOR-PAN ASSCLOWN THEN HE’LL WORSHIP THE FUCKING GROUND YOU WALK ON, INSTEAD OF IT BEING THE OTHER WAY AROUND.”

You watch as he collects the ingredients dutifully, even as he customarily abuses you verbally. You despise his rants, and his horribly crude language, but there is no denying that his passion is something to be admired – and, apparently, his culinary ability.

“FIRST THINGS FIRST, YOU PREHEAT THE FUCKING OVEN TO THE RIGHT FUCKING TEMPERATURE, THEN YOU REPARE THE FUCKING TIN. CAN YOU DO THAT, OR IS YOUR THINK-PAN SO FULL OF SWEAT AND MUSCLEBEASTS THAT YOU CAN ONLY SIT THERE AND RUB YOUR FUCKING NOOK?”

You glare at him, but grudgingly obey his instructions. Slowly, you begin to bake under the watchful and abusive eye of Karkat Vantas. Your first batch is a failure, and he berates you for it judiciously. Your second however, turns out much better. You take a deep whiff of the Faygo cupcakes.

They smell like… Faygo. Unsurprisingly. You never really understood the Highb100d’s obsession with Faygo.

It’s just soda.

You prepare a tray of the cupcakes, and a few glasses of Faygo as well, and prepare to perform your best Aurthour imitation.

==>BE THE STRONG SEXY SUPER MAID

Butlering Technique Number Sixty Three: Silent Step, Thousand Servings.

Tray in hand, it having been given the grudging approval of Head Chef Vantas, you breeze into the mainblock, ready to wow the Highb100d with your delicious cooking and incredible Maid abilities.

“Highb100d I made you some…” The tray falls from your hands with a clatter, Faygo cupcakes rolling every which way and white foamy milk splattering against the ground, mingling with splashes of jade and olive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Sadness!
> 
> I apologise. 
> 
> Everything I touch turns to Sadstuck. I am The Midas of Sadstuck. Misad?


	3. In Which Tears are Shed, Because People are Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama! Tragedy! Secret Butlering Technique!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a part of my ongoing 'War on Happiness'.
> 
> I'd say I'm sorry, but that'd be a hollow lie.

Your name is EQUIUS ZAHHAK and you are wearing a MAID’S OUTFIT. Due to a set of strange, rather contrived if you think about it, circumstances, your original clothing has been damaged irreparably. Due to a set of, also kind of contrived, other circumstances you baked a set of Soda-flavoured cupcakes for the HIGHB100D, GAMZEE MAKARA. Gamzee Makara is nowhere in sight.

There is only TRAGEDY.

There is blood. It’s heavy, multifaceted scent assaults your nostrils with a force that would make Pyrope faint.

Had you the ability to smell colours the way she did, you would likely have cried due to the smorgasbord of delicious, tragic flavours. You can see Sollux, slumped against a crater in the wall, his lowly b100d leaking from several orifices. Feferi and Kanaya are both laying on the ground, large, conspicuous holes in their torsos making it no secret how they died.

Those alone are enough to make render you speechless but they are not what you are focused on.

Nepeta looks up at you with empty eyes, her face twisted in shock and pain. Her claws are drawn from her sylladex. She tried to fight back, tried to live, tried to survive but she wasn’t STRONG enough.

There is a gaping hole in her chest, much like the ones that killed the other two. _There is a gaping hole in her chest and it hurts so much_.

She was your moirail. You were supposed to protect her from the world, and she would protect you from yourself.

You can feel your hands twitch and clench rhythmically. No. This isn’t happening. This is a bad dream. A terrible, terrible dream. You are going to wake up and this will have never happened.

But you don’t dream, not any more do you? You dream of Purple Spires and Majestic Towers, but you are on in asteroid in the Furthest Ring.

Somebody on this Asteroid killed your moirail. Somebody murdered Nepeta Leijon.

Somebody on this Asteroid is going to die.

Using all of your Maidly abilities, you vanish from visible sight.

Butler Technique Number One Hundred and Twelve: Neither Seen nor Heard, Only Served.

==>

Your name is KARKAT VANTAS. You wandered into the mainblock in order to see how that chucklefuck Zahhak was doing with his stupid cupcakes for that bag of bulges called Gamzee Makara.

You have been standing here for what feels like an eternity. Sollux. Feferi. Nepeta. Kanaya.

What the fuck happened. You can see the tray that Equius was carrying on the ground, the glasses shattered and broken, the Faygo cupcakes scattered.

You have to do something. Save them somehow. You rush over to Kanaya, and with trembling hands and arms press your lips against hers. Did it work? Would it work? You have no idea. Shivering, you rush to perform it Nepeta and Feferi, desperately hoping with all your strength that you aren’t too late.

When you move over to Sollux, you find his chest raising and falling ever so delicately. He’s not dead.

“SOLLUX? HOLY BULGEFUCK YOU’RE STILL ALIVE, COME ON. CAN YOU HEAR ME NOOKSTAIN?”

“KK…?” he rasped, looking up with empty black eyes and Karkat felt his bloodpusher clench. Sollux’s hand papped him on the cheek, stroking his face. “You nookthucker.” He’s smiling, as his hand falls away, and Karkat just stares, open mouthed and wide eyed. “… SOLLUX? HELLO? ALTERNIA TO ‘THOLLUCKTH’. OH GOG. NO. NO, NO, NO. HA HA, PLAY TIME’S OVER SOLLUX. COME ON, GRUBFUCK THIS ISN’T FUCKING FUNNY. YOU DON’T HAVE ANY FUCKING DREAMSELVES LEFT! YOU CAN’T FUCKING DIE YOU… YOU… just… _can’t_ …” He presses his head into the dead troll’s still warm neck and cries, hiding his aberrant cherry tears from view.

==>

On the roof of the main building, History threatens to repeat itself, as History is wont to do.

Ancestors, Descendants, their roles reprised, a troll garbed in garish bright yellow and orange with cobalt wings stares with unflinching determination across the distance to what was once a caliginous lover, now, an affront to her senses. Her feelings are no longer of loathing but disappointment, and it only serves to make him angrier at her slights, both real and imagined.

His wand in hand, crackling with energy most rational and scientific, he prepares to put an end to this farce they called a session.

With slow and steady steps, a honking sound reaches their auricular sponge clots, and they turn to face the one troll nobody was truly afraid of or saw as a threat. An image they were re-evaluating.

His face paint was marred and almost crude instead of it’s usual clean boundaries, but his eyes held a dark and almost foreboding sense of danger.

In this moment, there is no doubt that he is of the same lineage as the Grand Highblood.

“motherfuckin’ HONK motherfucker’s.” His once warbly lilting voice shifts and jars between a soft, calm speech to a vicious snarl. He makes no move to attack or interfere, and only gives them a grin that speaks of horror and agony.

Before either can move to attack, he appears.

Dressed in a frilly white maid’s outfit, his appearance is almost laughably ridiculous if it wasn’t so strangely appealing. But there is no sense of attraction and sudden flushed feelings.

His sunglasses, cracked and broken, are no longer perched on his face. His azure eyes gleam like sapphires composed of murderous rage as he curtsies. “My apologies.” His voice is oddly smooth, and almost soft. Subservient.

“A Maid’s Pride is the Cleanliness of the Hive. It is time to remove the Filth.” And then all Hell breaks loose.


End file.
